


New Year’s in Paris

by luredin



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Connected Scenes, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Season/Series 13, Sexual Content, Spencer’s POV, Vignette, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-01 04:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luredin/pseuds/luredin
Summary: Not so much a story as a series of connected scenes, or short vignettes, imagining what it might look like if Spencer and Aaron reunited after their time apart.(Assumes knowledge of seasons 11-13. No major spoilers.)





	1. Chapter 1

The knock at the door surprises Spencer. It’s Sunday—Christmas Eve, and he isn’t expecting anyone. He leans towards the door with a tentative step and looks out the peephole, curiousity growing as he catches sight of the postal uniform on the other side. He unlocks the deadbolt and pulls back the safety chain in one fluid motion. The door opens part way, and Spencer gives the delivery man a cautious nod. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid?”

“Yes?”

“Registered mail. I just need a signature here.”

Spencer takes the proffered pen and scrawls his signature across the screen held out in front of him. He’s barely finished when the man pushes a small Manila envelope into his hands, issues a curt ‘Merry Christmas’, and turns on his heels. Spencer stands still for a few moments, turning the envelope over in his hands, looking for some clue. He finally shrugs to himself and closes and locks the door fast behind him. He carries the mystery package over to the couch and sits down before slipping a finger under the flap and loosening the seal. Two smaller envelopes tumble out unto his lap. 

He recognizes the neat printed letters on the first envelope immediately. This is unexpected. He hesitates for a split-second before reaching inside to pull the Christmas card from within—a snowy scene at the North Pole complete with Santa and reindeer. He smiles and flips the card open to see more of the same proper block printing: _Dear Spencer_ , above a generic Christmas greeting, and below that, _Love, Jack_. He sets the card down on the cushion beside him and gingerly picks up the next envelope. His eyes fix on the intimate scroll of his name across the front. He traces the sloping curve of the S with a finger, sucking in a breath. He doesn’t realize that he’s holding it inside of himself until he feels the sharp pain in his chest reminding him to let go. 

Spencer lets out his breath and flips the envelope over in a rush. It’s another Christmas card, of course, but this one has something tucked inside of it. A boarding pass. A round trip ticket. Dulles to Charles de Gaulle. He reads the words over three times but his mind still cannot seem to grasp them. He searches inside the card for an explanation, but there is only one line of text. Deliberate, familiar cursive that stirs something forgotten and remembered inside of him. 

_Come to Paris for the New Year._

That’s all it says. One line. No explanation. No signature, although it doesn’t really need one. Spencer thinks in abstraction. Some part of him should be irritated at the presumption. He and Aaron haven’t spoken since before Jack and Aaron left. Not even after it was safe for them to do so. There’s a wide gulf to traverse between them, through distance and silence and this... _what is this?_ It’s not an answer. It’s not even a question. Spencer picks up the ticket and looks again, his brow creasing in concentration, as if the longer he keeps looking, the words will somehow coalesce and reveal their secret meaning. What is Aaron thinking?

Does it even matter?

He reaches around, fishing in his pocket for his phone and dials without needing to look. His eyes are still focused on Aaron’s handwriting. His voice is soft and maybe a little wistful when the line is picked up. “Hey, Emily. I’m going to need some time off...”


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer catches sight of Aaron across the crowded airport floor, and he freezes, wound tightly, rooted to the spot. He stares unbelieving. Indecent thoughts. Doesn’t notice Jack running full sprint towards him until his warm arms are around Spencer’s waist, rocking him slightly, and then—I missed you. 

_Missed you more._

“You’ve grown so tall.” More wonderment. 

“Another two inches!” Youthful pride. And in that moment Jack’s eyes turn up towards his, and they are so full of Hayley that Spencer’s breath hitches.

Aaron reaches them at last, consuming Spencer’s field of vision like a wildfire. He catalogs: dark-washed jeans, light-knit sweater—deep maroon—under a black leather jacket. Grey scarf. This Hotchner is a foreign man, in a foreign land. A distant part of Spencer’s mind wonders where Aaron’s vast collection of neckties has gone. More indecent thoughts. Spencer clears his throat, the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slyly. Aaron looks pleased.

And then they are hugging, and Aaron’s embrace is familiar, and this is the same: he smells just like Spencer remembers. His arms have slipped under Spencer’s sport coat, and his hands burn possessively against his spine. Spencer tilts his head, closes his eyes, his nose grazing Aaron’s cheek, then his neck. Taut muscles uncoil and spring free of their anxious, worrisome state of being. They are home now. 

Spencer is home.


	3. Chapter 3

Finally, alone.

They sit facing each other on the sofa, while Jack sleeps in one of the two adjoining bedrooms. Spencer can’t seem to take his eyes off of Aaron. All of Aaron, finally, right here in front of him. So close he would barely need to extend his arm along the back of the sofa to touch his shoulder, trace his jawline with his fingertips, brush that unruly shock of dark hair, graying at the temples, off his forehead. 

But he doesn’t.

Spencer doesn’t move except to draw both of his legs up onto the cushion in front of him. He clears his throat self-consciously, acutely aware of every knot tying and untying itself in his stomach, like an anxious teenager alone for the first time with his crush.

“So why Paris?” Spencer asks, to break the growing silence. 

“Is it too much?”

“As far as grand romantic gestures go?”

“As far as grand romantic _apologies_ go.” Aaron’s tone is light but his forehead creases and his eyes flicker with worry.

“What are you apologizing for?” Spencer asks. 

They both know the answer.

_Leaving._

The word hangs unspoken in the air between them.

“You don’t owe me an apology.” Spencer’s voice is barely above a whisper, because words are tricky things, and he doesn’t trust himself right now to say the right ones. 

Aaron closes his eyes. “I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done to help me.” _Open your eyes. Look at me._

Aaron opens his eyes. They’re glistening, wet, as he says, “I should’ve been there.”

“No. Jack _always_ comes first, remember?”

“You shouldn’t have been alone.”

Spencer smiles at this. “You know I wasn’t alone.”

“And you know what I mean,” Aaron fires back. He squares his shoulders and straightens his back and Spencer can almost see the old Hotch. SSA Hotchner, before the unraveling, when the slightest arch of his eyebrow could command a whole room’s attention. But then Aaron’s posture softens, and the moment passes.

“There was nothing you could’ve done,” Spencer repeats. He can’t believe that this is the conversation they are having. Why are they talking at all? Why aren’t they ripping each other’s clothes off? Devouring each other whole? Since when were words needed between them?

Aaron nods in agreement but his brow is still furrowed. He reaches out slowly and touches his fingers to Spencer’s face. Studying him. Like he’s seeing him for the first time. Spencer counts the seconds from the moment Aaron’s fingertips brush his skin. _One. Two. Three. Four._

“You’ve changed, Spencer.”

 _Everything changes_ , is what Spencer wants to say. He nods as Aaron’s fingers fall away. “There will be things I’m not going to tell you about.”

“I understand. But you can, if you want to, when you’re ready. Whatever you need. I just want you to know that I’m here, now. I wasn’t there before. And I’m sorry. But I’m here, now. You just have to tell me what you need.”

_Need._

Spencer reaches out tentatively for Aaron’s hand, links their fingers together, tugs gently until Aaron is leaning towards him, and he is leaning towards Aaron. When their lips meet it’s warm, and soft, and almost chaste. A still, breathless moment when their foreheads touch and they close their eyes and then they breath each other in and no one makes another move for several long seconds. Then Spencer’s lips ghost across Aaron’s skin, and he whispers.

“I need you to take me to bed, Aaron.”


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer wakes, momentarily startled. He isn’t sure where he is at first. But then he feels the weight of Aaron’s body pressed against his side, and he remembers. He sighs into the shadowy darkness of the hotel room. The digital display on the night stand blinks a bright red 2:47 a.m. Light from the bathroom across the way streams under the door. Spencer left it cracked open earlier, after he’d showered. After they’d made love. After Hotch had led him, by the hand, from the sofa to the bedroom, and undressed him hungrily, reverently. 

_I need you to take me to bed, Aaron._

And he had. Like it was their first time. Like no time at all had passed between them. Like it was only yesterday, damp sheets fisted, coil and recoil. Their bodies remembered. They didn’t last long.

_Spencer._

Yes.

_Oh, god. Spencer._

Yes.

_Come for me, Spencer._

Yes. Yes. Yes. 

Aaron stirs now and rolls onto his side facing Spencer. Spencer turns his head on the pillow so that he can make out the outline of Aaron’s body in the faint glow from the bathroom. He can see that Aaron’s eyes are still closed, even though his arm is winding around Spencer’s midsection, rubbing his open palm against the smooth surface of Spencer’s stomach. Massaging him softly. Seductively. 

“You awake?” Aaron asks.

_Mmmhmmm._

“Ready for round two?”

Spencer turns onto his side, mirroring Aaron, and Aaron’s hand slips to his lower back, drawing him closer. His eyes are open now.

Spencer begins by kissing his neck. Featherlight kisses. Trailing and retracing. Aaron moans softly. Spencer goes slowly. Savoring the salty-sweet taste of Aaron’s skin. Memorizing each milometer of it, from just under his earlobe, round to his Adam’s apple. Spencer sucks gently, and licks at Aaron’s collarbone. Another moan, and Aaron pulls their bodies together even closer.

Spencer slips a leg between Aaron’s, and they stay like that for a long time. Entwined. Kissing. Hands wandering. Shoulders. Arms. Asses. Touching. Touching. Touching. Neither one of them say a word, aside from an occasional low moan, a sharp intake of breath, a soft humming, lips against skin against lips. Erections mutually ignored, despite the burning hot, hardness between them. Unlike earlier in the night, they are going to take their time. 

Spencer’s hands eventually come to rest on Aaron’s shoulders, and he pushes them down against the mattress, climbs over him, straddles his hips, closes his own eyes, whispers Aaron’s name. He hovers over top of him, buries his forehead against Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron’s hands grip his ass. Spencer thrusts his hips down, and Aaron rises to meet him. No, they don’t hurry. 

They have all the time in the world. 

Spencer delights in the feel of Aaron’s cock sliding against his, and _God how I’ve missed this_. He didn’t realize how hungry he was for the taste, for the feel, for everything that was Aaron Hotchner, naked and coming undone underneath him until right this very second. It’s almost overwhelming. 

They build up their rhythm by starts and stops, delicious friction, taut stomachs, aching balls, and when Spencer finally orgasms, he does so silently, while biting down on the top of Aaron’s shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. Aaron comes, too, moments later, without a sound. 

Loose-limbed and drunk with the taste of each other they collapse togeher, and for the briefest of moments they are one and the same.


	5. Chapter 5

Aaron is still sleeping when Spencer wakes again near dawn. He slips out of bed quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Aaron’s breathing is deep and calm and the lines on his face are relaxed. He sleeps more peacefully than Spencer remembers.

_Everything changes._

He pulls the fluffiest hotel robe he’s ever seen over his pajama-bottomed, t-shirt clad self, and pads, on purposefully mismatched socks, into the living area. He can hear the faint sound of a TV coming from Jack’s room as he begins brewing instant coffee that promises to be very strong and very black and _where is the sugar._

Some things never change.

A few minutes later he is standing, coffee in hand, on the balcony. The cool winter morning bites. Makes him shiver. But makes him feel alive, too. Like this might possibly be the first sunrise he’s ever seen. Or he’s seeing it with new eyes—Paris, at dawn, awash in pinks and purples. It really is beautiful. 

The sound of the door opening behind him catches him off guard. Aaron is similarly robed, coffee in hand. 

“Did I wake you?”

Aaron shakes his head. “I smelled the coffee.”

He comes to stand behind Spencer. His free arm loosely circles Spencer’s waist, and his hand rests on Spencer’s hip.

“This might be the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen,” Spencer says, leaning against Aaron. He raises his mug to his lips and inhales the steam, looks out across the expanse of rooftops and flickering lights in the distance. The Eiffel Tower is framed by lavender pale blue whisps of cloud and morning light, and it’s as if it’s all for them. This cold, clear, crisp morning is just for the two of them. Spencer shivers against Aaron, and Aaron tightens his grip on Spencer’s hip. Spencer stifles a yawn.

“Tired?” Aaron asks with a mischievous smirk.

“Desynchronosis,” Spencer replies matter-of-factly. 

“Most people just say ‘jet leg’.”

“Most people don’t forget to pack their melatonin.”

Aaron laughs. Spencer forgot how beautiful that rare sound was. He forgot what it felt like to make Aaron Hotchner laugh. But he is remembering now; he is remembering how good it used to feel when for a time _he_ was the only one who _could_ make Aaron laugh. It was a selfish, possessive feeling, but he had delighted in it. Aaron rubs small circles against Spencer’s back while he sips his coffee and stares out at the skyline. Spencer wants to feel that way again. 

“What do you want to do today?” Aaron asks.

Spencer tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. He grins and hopes his look is conveying the nuance of his sentiments accurately. Dirty, dirty thoughts. Hotch laughs again and kisses his forehead. “You know we’re not alone here.”

“We should do whatever Jack wants to do today.” Spencer pauses for effect and lowers his voice. “And then we should do whatever I want to do, tonight.”

“I second that motion,” Hotch replies. They stay together for a few minutes, just kissing. There isn’t much heat behind it, but, god, it feels good. Hotch is the one to pull away first, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in affection. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“I need to go wake Jack up. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Pain perdu?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Aaron laughs. 

“I know! I’ve decided that I’m going to be the most obnoxious American tourist ever for the duration of this trip.” He doesn’t mean it. Not entirely. But what he does mean is that he’s relaxed. He wants to have fun and just live in the moment, and he doesn’t remember the last time he felt this way. He feels like the whole past year might actually just melt away, and he wouldn’t care. 

He feels young again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC.


	6. Chapter 6

Late in the evening Aaron finds him in their shared bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Spencer shaved just before leaving home, but already he can see the beginnings of a faint five o’clock shadow on his jaw line. He tucks his hair behind his ears and watches as Aaron comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Spencer and pulling him close. Spencer doesn’t say anything; he just tries to melt into Aaron’s embrace. Something stops him from committing fully. And isn’t that just the story of their lives, he thinks. 

“Hi,” Aaron whispers, resting his chin on Spencer’s shoulder and locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Hi.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m not sure they’re worth that much.”

Aaron runs his hands up and down the length of Spencer’s arms before bringing them to Spencer’s shoulders and kneading gently at the knots he finds there. Spencer wants to relax into Aaron’s touch. He wants to; he really does. After all, today was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Wasn’t it? Walking around the city with Jack laughing, smiling. Aaron by his side. Being such _tourists_. Acting like they might actually be a family, maybe. But it wasn’t just acting or pretending or putting up appearances. Spencer had _felt_ it. Felt it in his bones. Everything was just the way it should be, could be, if this past year hadn’t completely derailed their lives. Hadn’t changed him, irrevocably. 

They could go back, couldn’t they? Start over?

Aaron gently nudges Spencer round to face him, pulling him away from his swirling chaotic thoughts and back to the present moment with only a gentle touch to his chin. Spencer brings his eyes up to meet Aaron’s and swallows back the lump growing in his throat. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Spence?”

“Why now?” Spencer’s asks. He takes both of Aaron’s hands in his and laces their fingers together at their sides. His eyes flit nervously around Aaron’s face, memorizing each new line and crease that wasn’t their before the separation. He aches inside, realizing he wasn’t there to see them form. To know where they came from and even possibly smooth them away with a gentle touch or a soft kiss to Aaron’s temple. He _doesn’t know where they came from_. He wasn’t there, and he might never know. 

Aaron shakes his head in confusion. 

“Why now?” Spencer repeats. “This. Us. What are we doing?”

And here it is, finally. The elephant in the room that neither one of them had been willing to address for the last twenty-four hours. They had neatly side-stepped around it on day one. They glanced in its direction only to fall into bed and pretend, pretend that nothing had changed between them. 

“I missed you so much,” Aaron says, and Spencer doesn’t doubt his sincerity. He believes because he sees the worry and the pain shadow Aaron’s features, fall into the new wrinkles and settle into the lines of his face. But it’s not enough. It’s not an answer.

“That wasn’t what I asked.” He stops because they’re still side-stepping the real question. The weight of it is crushing, and Spencer finds himself struggling with his breath. The words take a minute to build inside of him and another minute before he feels brave enough to release them. “You could’ve come back. After. But you didn’t.”

Aaron visible swallows and dips his head, staring at their hands still clasped between them. “I...Jack...I couldn’t with him, not again. He needs me and I need him...and the job, I couldn’t...”

“Stop.” Spencer says with more force than he means to. “You know that’s not what I mean. I _get_ it. You honestly think I don’t know why you couldn’t come back to the BAU? Jack always comes first. But...” Spencer fights to level his voice before he continues. “You talked to Emily, Aaron. Emily. Not me. Why didn’t you come home? To me.”

Aaron’s breath visibly hitches, and he grips Spencer’s hands tighter. His eyes search out Spencer’s, and when he finds them Spencer can see that he’s beginning to tremble, and the sight breaks him. Spencer lets go of his hands and grips Aaron’s waist, pulling him closer in a half-embrace meant to soothe but it only makes Aaron tremble more. He slips his arms around Spencer and whispers, “I was ashamed.”

Spencer instantly brings his hands to cup Aaron’s face, the pads of his thumbs caressing his cheeks. “What? I don’t understand.”

“I wasn’t there when you needed me.” It’s an echo of their earlier conversation, but now Aaron’s words are laced through with a deep pain that wasn’t there before. The guilt washes off of him in waves, shocking Spencer. “I abandoned you, and what you went through in prison...I couldn’t...how could you ever forgive me for not being there? For not...”

“Saving me?” Spencer interrupts. “I’ve already told you, there was nothing you could’ve done. And I never blamed you! Not once, Aaron.”

“That doesn’t change how I felt. How I still feel. The first time I saw that picture of you...”

Spencer knows what picture he means. His mugshot. It was plastered all over the media at the time of his arrest. The haunted, not-quite-there expression on his face, his hair falling in ragged disarray, the vacant look in his eyes. He sees it sometimes still, when he is having trouble sleeping, or worse, when he’s sound asleep and wakes suddenly, gasping, that picture still sharp in his mind. His own face staring back at him in the darkness. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to reach out,” Aaron continues. “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of your rejection. Because no matter what you say, I did blame myself for not being there, not just for you, but for the whole team. And as each week went by, when I didn’t hear anything from you either, it only strengthend my resolve, made me feel like I was making the right decision.”

Spencer knows he is partly complicit in Aaron’s guilt, because he could’ve reached out, too, right? Communication goes both ways. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I should’ve made the first move. I could’ve, I know. But when you left, the way you left. I guess I felt if you were ever going to come back to me, it had to be your decision. I didn’t want to influence you or get in the way of your life and Jack’s and the safe space you’d built and I...” He knows he’s rambling and he bites down on his bottom lip attempting to stem the tide.

“Shhhhh.” Aaron’s lips graze his jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and then lays his cheek alongside Spencer’s. 

Spencer takes a deep breath and shifts their bodies closer together. “Part of me thought that once you’d been gone long enough...you wouldn’t want— _need_ —me anymore.”

Aaron doesn’t reply, just rubs his hands in protective circles up and down Spencer’s spine. He shakes his head, resting it against Spencer’s, and sighs. Spencer huffs out a small laugh, startling them both. 

“What?” Aaron steps away just a bit, looking at him with a wide eyes, curious.

Spencer laughs again, more genuine this time, the start of smile at the corner of his mouth. “You’re a terrible profiler, Aaron Hotchner.”

Aaron laughs with him and presses their foreheads together. “You’re not much better _doctor_ Spencer Reid.”

Aaron brushes their lips together, and Spencer finally begins to relax fully. “We’re a couple of idiots.”

“But we’re here now,” Aaron replies. He kisses him again, and then again. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Spencer doesn’t resist. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. He wants nothing more than to curl up beside Aaron under their blankets, bodies soft and sleep-filled, with no more unanswered questions lingering, with only the warmth of their bodies and the breath of a new tomorrow between them.


End file.
